WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle
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◈ The Wandering Knight and the Moving Castle ◈
Chapter 53: The Bird That Cannot Be Caged (1)
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The envoys were terrified as the garrison commander came flying toward them with incomprehensible last words.
“W-what is that?!”
“Get out of the way!”
Crash!
The garrison commander met their end with a heavy thud, kicking up a massive cloud of dust.
It was an unmistakable order to leave, one even a fool could understand. The envoys had no choice but to depart with their shoulders slumped.
They trembled as they imagined the punishment awaiting them upon their return. The negotiations had clearly been hopeless from the start, but the head of House Duran was not the sort of person to take that into account.
“Now it’s finally over.”
Roxanne stretched with a refreshed expression. She lowered her heels, and her iron boots rang out clearly.
“I wondered why you didn’t kill them right away.”
“Shouldn’t they be grateful? They died without much suffering.”
“That’s true.”
Another lord would have ordered a far slower and more painful execution.
After completing the post-battle arrangements, Roxanne left behind enough guards and a year’s worth of food for them, then returned to the main castle.
The mood in Goldhill was good. The knights and soldiers loyal to the house were unharmed, and they had taken Cordon Castle, which had long been a thorn in their side.
“Put the sacks of salt over here!”
“When are the arrows and bolts due to arrive?”
“The fortification craftsmen will arrive in a week!”
Supplies and workers bound for Cordon Castle poured in, and Goldhill received more visitors than it had before the war.
They had only barely taken the castle thanks to Roxanne’s supply blockade and the absurd variable named Eugene.
Once its defenses were reinforced and food stockpiled, House Duran would have no way to take it back.
* * *
Eugene, who had contributed the most to the castle’s fall, was given the right to claim its most valuable spoils. House Morad purchased them from him at a good price.
“I heard some of the mercenaries following you have left.”
Varda asked Eugene, who was grinning at his bag of gold coins.
“They received their accumulated wages, loot, and a special reward for the siege. Quite a few mercenaries came into a great deal of money. Many aren’t renewing their contracts and intend to return to Bonyard City to settle down.”
“There are things even loyalty cannot hold onto.”
A mercenary’s greatest wish was to lie safely in bed and close their eyes at the end of their life. Countless people chose peace when they were given the chance.
It was not as though they were quitting mercenary work immediately. Now that they had savings, earning a little at a time through guard work or odd jobs in an established city would be enough.
“They are wise. Ordinary people who have not been chosen by fate are better off living with sweat or dirt on their hands.”
“A capable warrior isn’t someone who fights well. It’s someone who notices when their luck is running out.”
“Did you hear that from Sir Gopri? It’s a saying more fitting for mercenaries than anyone else.”
The mercenaries House Morad had assigned to Eugene for the Richwood subjugation had also left. Only fifteen mercenaries remained at Eugene’s side.
More mercenaries than expected had left, older ones to retire and younger ones to start families.
Those who had decided to leave looked afraid Eugene might be displeased.
“I’m sorry to say this, Sir Knight.”
“Not at all. Thank you for everything, and I hope your life ahead is peaceful. If I ever visit Bonyard City, I hope we can meet again.”
Eugene sincerely blessed the mercenaries as he said goodbye.
‘I do not stop those who wish to leave the battlefield.’
He had made that vow from the moment he became a knight. Though he himself did not seem likely to escape the fate of wandering battlefields anytime soon.
* * *
House Morad, famous in Roman for its association with the Clear Stream Faction, was deeply devout.
After returning from her successful mission, Roxanne visited the temple. Once she had bathed and purified herself, she changed into a white Doric chiton and knelt before the statue of the goddess.
“Goddess, may your wisdom remain with my sword on the battlefields to come...”
Several trainee priestesses around her age knelt behind her.
‘Hm. This is far better than worship at the Church of the Absolute.’
That was Eugene’s impression as he worshipped among them.
As a teenager, praying for a long time among dozens of musty-smelling male monks had been dreadful.
Sitting beside young women who smelled of soap for a short service, on the other hand, was a pleasant experience.
“I’m going to worship before seeing my father. I should offer a prayer of thanks for our victory.”
“If it is all right, I would like to join you.”
“Really?”
Roxanne gladly accepted the unexpected offer.
When her prayer ended, Eugene opened his mouth as well.
“Merciful Goddess.”
“...!”
Everyone looked surprised when Eugene, whom they expected only to attend, began offering a prayer.
“Grant me the strength to crush the enemy and the strength to rebuild ruined lands. Let me embrace both virtues in balance...”
Their surprise deepened at the words Eugene recited. They had not expected him to know even the basics of doctrine. Most knights only sought the gods on the battlefield and found studying the faith unbearably tedious.
“That was a wonderful prayer, Sir Knight.”
“The goddess will surely be pleased by the more generous offerings than usual.”
The priestesses looked at Eugene warmly.
“You said you lived in a monastery, and you really are different. I wondered if you were only doing this because of me.”
“No. Lady Roxanne was so devout that simply watching her made me feel purified.”
“Flattery does not suit you.”
Roxanne snorted and patted Eugene on the shoulder. Still, she did not look displeased in the slightest.
Once worship was over, the two headed to the strategy room. Since the war was still ongoing, the vassals who had retreated were discussing their next steps.
“Roxanne.”
“Yes, Count.”
“The report you sent about how the castle fell. Are you certain there isn’t an inch of exaggeration in it?”
“...Yes.”
Roxanne could not answer immediately. Her father’s strange expression, one she had never seen before, nearly made her laugh.
“I would like to see this battering ram you used to take the castle.”
“Unfortunately, it was dismantled and used to make a gate. The old gate had been damaged beyond any possible use.”
“...I see. You have worked hard.”
While Roxanne curled her toes tightly to control her expression, the Count returned to the original topic.
“Our defeat at Goldford is regrettable, but taking Cordon Castle is significant. Our true enemy is not the Emperor, but House Duran. They must feel as though they have a thorn lodged in their throat every day now.”
The Count handed Roxanne a marker bearing the family banner.
“Place it on Cordon Castle with your own hand. It is your fief now.”
“!”
Startled, Roxanne carefully placed the marker on the map.
Though its population and production were low, she had been granted a strategic location that would receive immense support from the main house. Even if Timothy returned to the family, he would no longer be able to treat Roxanne carelessly.
“Our army will pass through that place more than any other from now on. I hope you will manage it well.”
“I will do my utmost until the day House Duran kneels.”
The Count turned to another distinguished contributor.
“Viscount Baldwin. Thank you for rallying the army and leading its retreat with minimal losses, even in that crisis.”
“It was only my duty as your vassal, Count.”
The representative of the vassals, who had escaped by swiftly forcing a breakthrough at a single point, gave a military salute. Without that quick judgment, the losses would have been far greater.
“I do not deserve praise after fleeing in defeat. Please punish me for failing to rescue Lord Timothy.”
“The one who deserves punishment is the commander who was captured from the start, not you. You achieved the best result possible after taking command so suddenly, so do not bring up that matter again.”
The Count mentioned his son only once.
“Prepare measures to secure Timothy’s return.”
While the Count was briefly absent, the nobles discussed the return of the house’s heir. What was amusing was that none of them looked anxious or worried.
“Isn’t that too much money?”
“We must show this much sincerity for those Duran bastards to agree to a deal. He is the eldest son of the great House Morad, after all.”
“It would be a shame to give up that much, though.”
“They may demand Cordon Castle instead of money.”
“Say something sensible. The Count will refuse as well.”
The vassals’ conversation sounded more like bargaining over luxury goods. There was not a trace of respect or concern for the heir.
No, rather...
“Doesn’t it seem like they secretly hope Timothy comes to harm in enemy hands?”
“Many of them probably want Roxanne to become the official heir while they have the chance.”
Varda smiled at Eugene’s whisper.
“I feel the same.”
“You say frightening things with a smile.”
“If Lady Roxanne becomes the heir, it will be better for your advancement than anything else. People always want to take care of the ones who supported them when times were difficult.”
Eugene was grateful that the mage he respected was looking out for him, but he also felt sad.
The kind girl who had walked through wheat fields despite risking a fever. Where had the compassion that saved hungry farmers gone?
“That will be all for today’s meeting. Sir Eugene, remain. Everyone else, leave.”
At Count Morad’s words, the vassals headed outside. They looked enviously at the young knight sitting alone.
It was incredibly difficult to earn that much interest from their cold lord. Eugene stood far below them in rank, but as fellow knights, they could not help feeling jealous.
“I heard he defeated Geist and his knights by himself?”
“They say he drove a battering ram into the gate, smashed it down, and ground up the entire infantry force blocking the way.”
“What ridiculous boasting. At least say something believable.”
“There were more than one or two witnesses!”
They had already forgotten Timothy’s capture and were talking excitedly about the siege.
* * *
Count Morad was a direct person. He disliked wasting time on needless pleasantries.
“I would like to discuss the reward I intend to grant you. Are you ready to hear about the fief you will receive?”
“Of course.”
“You have two choices.”
It was an unexpected offer. Usually, a noble granted fiefs according to their own interests, and it was rare to give someone a choice.
The Count’s fingers pointed to three places on the map spread across the table. They were villages surrounded by friendly fiefs and safe from the threat of war.
Their combined population was around seven hundred. There were no cash crops, but the land was fertile and produced abundant wheat, barley, beans, and various livestock.
“They are excellent fiefs. More than I expected.”
“As you say. These places require few guards and produce silver coins on their own even if left alone.”
Put another way, the three villages were already complete and had no room for growth. Their entire output came from simply raising cattle and planting barley, beans, and wheat.
It would fall far short of what Eugene earned by traveling around and selling his strength.
“The other one is here.”
Count Morad’s finger moved upward. It passed beyond the finely drawn territory and continued into the crudely rendered outer regions.
His finger stopped at a village in northern Roman. Its name was Northfork. It had been named for the three branches of land that stretched like a fork along a great river.
“It’s a fief completely separated from the rest. Did you inherit it from an outside noble?”
“That is correct. We acquired it less than a year ago. It was Benjamin’s work.”
“No wonder you cherish your younger brother so much, Count.”
There were few nobles, and they intermarried among themselves, so even nobles from distant places were bound by blood.
Naturally, when a lord without an heir died, all kinds of forces rushed in and fought over succession rights.
Every powerful house had experience swallowing up outside fiefs in that manner. As a result, it was common for noble houses to have scattered territories.
“It has a port and seems to have considerable potential.”
“For a mere village, it has as many as three large inns.”
Three large inns in one village. That summed up Northfork’s defining trait. Many villages did not even have a proper inn.
Its population, livestock, and harvest were naturally smaller than those of the earlier villages. Yet through its great river, it was a trade hub that could reach not only the Inland Sea, but all across Roman.
Footnotes:
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